


Forget Me Not

by matrimus



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: College, First Kiss, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 11:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14331057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matrimus/pseuds/matrimus
Summary: After breaking his pelvis in a snowboarding accident, Link suffers from temporary amnesia. He knows he's in hospital, knows he's hurt his hip - and knows Rhett is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.college!au





	Forget Me Not

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mythicalmonochrome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythicalmonochrome/gifts).



> This was meant to be a drabble, and ended up 3,500 words long. Oops?
> 
> Based on [this cute-ass video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DiviQfLyQX4&t=32s) of a man waking up from anesthetic and hitting on his wife, and also the time Link [broke his pelvis after a snowboarding accident.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p0eiJIgVc9s&t=357s)
> 
> Come chat to me over on [Tumblr](https://matrimus.tumblr.com)!
> 
> A gift for my darling [mythicalmonochrome](https://mythicalmonochrome.tumblr.com), for letting me scream at her about this, and for generally being awesome.

It’s not the first time Rhett’s seen Link laid up in a hospital bed, and knowing his best friend as well as he does, he’s certain it won’t be the last, either. In all honesty, it’s a miracle Link has lived to see his twentieth birthday come and go, a near constant stream of accidents prompting Rhett into keeping a well-stocked first aid box in the trunk of his car. He’s seen Link cut his fingers buttering a slice of toast, witnessed him tumble down the stairs of his family home back in Buies Creek; he’d laughed himself to the point of tears that time Link had tripped over his own feet showing off for a group of girls, and chewed his lips bloody waiting for the x-ray results of many a mountain biking disaster. The medicinal scent of antiseptic and the gleaming halls of a hospital ward are no stranger to him by now, that’s for sure.

 

But this… Rhett swallows thickly as he approaches the bedside, the slow beep of the monitor hooked up to Link’s chest counting each sluggish step in tandem with the steady pulse of his friend’s heart. _This_ feels worse than anything Rhett’s faced so far, a sucker-punch to the gut that sucks the breath from his lungs. Link has _broken_ _bones_ this time, an injury far more substantial than the usual purple-black bruises and skinned knees. Rhett’s lost count of the hours he’d spent hunched in the ER’s waiting room after declining Gregg’s offer to drive him back to the lodge earlier that day. He’d shrugged off his friend’s concern with a strained laugh, using the excuse of documenting Link’s story through to its bitter end as a reason to stay behind. Link was bound to get a kick out of the whole thing once he was stable enough, he’d argued, especially how he’d blushed a brilliant shade of crimson when the nurses had stripped him down to his underwear. Gregg had nodded, perhaps more perceptively than Rhett cared to admit, but hadn’t asked any further questions. Rhett and Link were practically joined at the hip, after all; it was only natural that where one went, the other would follow, and that apparently included hanging around hospital waiting rooms for six hours straight.

 

Rhett’s eyes linger on the shape of Link’s legs beneath the thin bedsheet, checking for any unnatural lumps and bumps that might indicate metal pins or a cast. Link’s eyes are closed, ringed with bruised shadow, his nose crusted with dried blood. His dark hair sticks up in haphazard tufts at the back of his head and the hospital gown gapes open around his neck, yet somehow, he’s still the most beautiful thing Rhett’s ever seen in his life. He looks like shit, but he’s alive – Rhett lets out a low sigh of relief that he feels down to the tips of his toes. 

 

“Hey, bo.” The affectionate nickname comes naturally despite the years that have passed since he’s last used it. He can’t remember when they’d swapped the softly southern term for a less personal _man_ or _buddy_ , but the sight of Link so frail and vulnerable stirs up a fierce rush of childhood nostalgia, a protectiveness Rhett hasn’t felt since he’d punched John Carson in the stomach for picking on Link back in third grade. “You awake?”

 

Link’s eyes flutter open at the sound of Rhett’s voice, brilliantly blue in his ashen face. He struggles to sit up higher than his comfortable forty-five-degree angle, wincing at the protest he no doubt meets from his injured hip; Rhett’s hand hovers over his shoulder, his thumb rubbing what he hopes are soothing patterns through the rough fabric of the hospital gown. “Hey, _hey_ , it’s okay… just lie still, man, don’t go making things worse. Are you in pain? D’you want me to call the nurse?”

 

Link only stares up at him in mute reply, his brow pulled into a tight frown and his puzzled gaze scanning Rhett from head to foot. When he finally does speak, his voice is rough and cracked.

 

“Who’re you?”

 

Rhett immediately balks, the unexpected question catching him off-guard. Sure, Link had been a little _confused_ after the accident, repeatedly informing his friends of the fact he was ‘ _coming to_ ’ between angered enquires as to why they were laughing at him, but Rhett hadn’t anticipated the effects lasting this long. A mild concussion, the paramedic had explained as they’d bundled Link into the back of an ambulance, nasty but nothing to worry about. Rhett can’t help but wonder how much of that statement was true, and how much of it had been good-natured bullshit to keep him from panicking whilst Link had slipped in and out of consciousness. Was it possible for Link to forget who Rhett was completely, his best friend since first grade?

 

“I’m… I’m Rhett.” Hoping the name alone will be enough to jog Link’s memory, Rhett shrugs at him awkwardly. Link cocks his head toward one shoulder, fever-bright eyes making a second sweep of Rhett’s tall frame. Goosebumps shiver over Rhett’s skin as those pink lips pull into a slow, undoubtedly _flirtatious_ smile. He’s seen that look before, though never experienced it directly. It’s Link’s most winning smile, the heavy ammunition he pulls out when he wants girls eating from the palm of his hand. It works far more often than it fails, and if Rhett’s being entirely honest with himself, it’s not the first time he’s felt its effects crackle through his own bloodstream too.

 

“Rhett, huh?” Link drawls, the name like whorls of smoke on his tongue. “Are you a doctor? ‘Cause I feel better already.”

 

Somewhere in the darkest recess of his mind, Rhett makes a mental note to tease his friend mercilessly the moment he’s lucid, but right now, his brain can scarcely function enough to remind himself to keep breathing. He snorts a derisive laugh through his nose and rips his hand from Link’s shoulder as though the contact burns him.

 

“No, man, I’m not a doctor. I’m your…” he hesitates, searching blindly for a term fitting enough to describe their relationship. _Friend_ has never sounded quite right on its own, too impersonal somehow. He clears his throat, sinking his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “I’m your best friend.”

 

“Oh, okay.” Link’s face splits on a delighted smile, the very same smile Rhett remembers facing when his six-year-old self had agreed to a sleepover at six-year-old Link’s house fifteen years ago. Except six-year-old Link hadn’t then shot him a look like he’d wanted to eat him alive, all innocence immediately scattered to the wind. “Man… you are _eye_ _candy_.”

 

It’s the drugs, it’s got to be; Link would never be caught dead saying a phrase like _eye candy_ unironically. It’s got to be the morphine making him hallucinate, or maybe the concussion has scrambled his brains completely. It’s the only logical explanation Rhett can give as to why Link would be flirting with him. Link has always been charming, effortlessly provocative with his easy smiles and mischievous winks, but never toward men, and certainly never toward _Rhett_. It makes Rhett as quietly thrilled as it does abruptly uncomfortable, his blood running white-hot and burning through his veins.

 

“You’re not making any sense, brother.” Fighting back the crimson flush he knows is already warming the tips of his ears, Rhett offers a wobbly smile and nudges Link’s shoulder none-too-gently with his knuckles. “You should get some more rest.”

 

“I’d rest easier if you crawled on in here with me?” Link’s head thumps back against the pillows, heavy and sluggish but no less inviting for it. Rhett’s throat visibly shifts on a thick gulp. It’s all too close to the unwelcome dreams he’s spent the last five years of his life trying to banish from his head – except, in his fantasies, Link knows exactly what he’s doing when he’s tugging Rhett into his bed and pressing their bodies together. Rhett’s done well enough keeping such invasive thoughts locked away in the deepest chambers of his heart, but with Link’s warm, coquettish eyes peering up at him, it’s hard to remember where fantasy ends and real life begins. The Link not under the heavy influence of intravenous opioids would certainly not be flirting with him, that much he knows.

 

Grasping wildly for a change of subject, Rhett staggers back a step to lean nonchalantly against the medication counter behind him. “Do you know where you are? Can you remember what happened?”

 

Link finally tears his gaze away from where it’s burning a trail up the naked slope of Rhett’s neck; he blinks owlishly before peering around the hospital room, taking in the rows of machines and softly beeping monitors. Worrying his lower lip between his teeth, he nods slowly. “Yeah – I broke my penis.”

 

Rhett can’t help the loud laugh that bursts from his lungs, perhaps a little too enthusiastic after the tension tightening his chest. “Your _pelvis_ , dude; you’ve broken your _pelvis_.”

 

“Right, yeah.” Link nods again, absently, seemingly unphased by Rhett’s laughter at his expense. Thoughtful eyes settle on a plastic cup of water and plate of crackers by his bedside, the shifting muscle of his shoulders wiping the grin from Rhett’s face as he reaches over to pick them up. “They wanted me to eat these. Energy or something, I guess.” He holds one out toward Rhett. “Want one?”

 

Rhett shakes his head, surprised at the warmth that blooms through his heart at his friend’s simple gesture. Link has never thought twice about sharing his things with Rhett, a familiarity he clearly hasn’t lost despite his amnesia. “Nah, man, I’m good – they’re all yours.”   

 

They lapse into a long silence as Link nibbles one corner of the cracker, holding it delicately between both hands like a squirrel. It’s adorable; Rhett lowers his eyes to the floor, scuffing the white tile with the toe of his sneaker until Link’s voice draws his attention once again.

 

“We were… we were snowboarding, right?” Link asks, expressive eyebrows knit together as he swallows his dry mouthful of cracker. “Did I fall or something?”

 

“Oh, you fell alright, brother; you fell _hard_ ,” Rhett confirms, grinning as the memories begin to play back in vivid, almost feverish technicolour. “You practically _flew_ – must have been a good forty feet before you hit the ground. Don’t worry,” he taps the side of his temple furtively. “I’ve got it all up here. Maybe I’ll even write it down, make a little biography of your tragedy if your memory doesn’t come back.”

 

Link returns the grin, sheepishly this time. “I always did want to ride in an ambulance.”

 

Rhett’s heart skips a hopeful beat at that; if Link can remember something so simple, maybe his memory loss is only temporary after all? It’s hard to imagine a reality wherein Link doesn’t remember who Rhett is, doesn’t remember all they’ve done together – doesn’t remember the sun on his neck and the scent of pollen in the wind as they’d sat cross-legged and facing one another in that cow pasture, bloodied hands clasped and shared dreams in their hearts. No; the very idea of him forgetting _that_ is enough to break Rhett out in a cold sweat, something hot and painful lancing through his chest.

 

It takes a moment for Rhett to realise that Link is _looking_ at him again, languid and dazed but no less bright. Rhett hunches beneath the scrutiny, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. “…What?”

 

“Were you worried about me?” Link asks, the soft question far too innocent for the wolfish grin shaping his lips. Rhett wants to punch him, wants to cup his face and kiss the life out of him. Instead he shrugs, only half-joking as he allows himself one small moment of indulgence.

 

“Maybe a little.”

 

Link hums a low laugh, lifting his hand to his mouth to lick a stray flake from the corner of his thumb. “Oh really? Is that so?”

 

“Link, c’mon, man…” Rhett curls his fingers around the hard edge of the medication cabinet, desperate to shake the image of Link’s pink tongue from his mind before it has time to linger on just how it would feel when dragged across the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. “Just shut up and eat your cracker.”

 

Link ignores him, turning the food absently in his fingers. “Can I ask you something, Rhett?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before he tips his head curiously, wayward strands of dark hair tumbling down over his forehead, and continues, “Are you my boyfriend? ‘Cause I’m feeling something here.”

 

“Your… your _what_?” Rhett’s spine goes rigid, his eyes flying wide in panicked disbelief. It’s nothing new for the two of them to be accused of growing closer than average friends, but it _is_ completely foreign for Link to be the one voicing such a taboo opinion. It’s always been easier to turn a blind eye to the teasing than it has been to openly discuss how the assumptions make them feel, the jokes and insults sluicing from their backs like water. What was there to talk about, after all? They love each other, that much Rhett’s comfortable enough to admit, if not without the addition of ‘ _like a brother_ ’ tagged on for good measure. But the affection both starts and ends there. So what if his warped imagination makes him look twice lately when Link pads across their dorm room in nothing but a towel, or the way his pulse quickens when Link’s knee knocks against Rhett’s own beneath the breakfast table. Rhett can easily chalk it up to raging hormones, the rush of his teenage years mixing with the dizzying freedom of adulthood. He doesn’t _really_ have feelings for Link. He’s not… he’s _not_ …

 

Seemingly oblivious to the inner turmoil his ridiculous question has stirred up in Rhett’s stomach, Link waves at him expectantly. “Well?”

 

Rhett sucks a harsh breath through his nose, setting his jaw as he meets his friend’s eyes. “No,” he grinds out. “I’m not.”

 

Link’s face falls, a melancholic sadness in the purse of his lips. “Oh. Really?”

 

“Really.” Rhett’s sure his knuckles have bled white from the death-grip he has on the medicine counter, his shoulders locked in tight to his chin. Link shakes his head.

 

“Then why do I feel like I want to kiss you right now?”

 

The question snatches the breath from Rhett’s lips, his weakened knees struggling to hold him up as the room gives a lurching spin. Panic claws at his throat, the prospect of opening his mouth and admitting his desire to pull Link into his arms more terrifying than anything he’s faced in his 21 years on planet Earth. He’s openly blushing, the rush of his blood a loud pounding in his ears. “Link, stop… what’re you _doing_ , man? You can’t say crap like that.”

 

“Why not?” Link doesn’t let up, his southern accent far more pronounced through a fog of concussion and medication. Rhett shrugs hopelessly.

 

“’Cause it… it ain’t right.”

 

Link’s hand rests absently over his chest, palm pushed flat as though rubbing an ache from somewhere deep inside it. He takes a moment to mull over Rhett’s answer before he murmurs, low and confused, “Doesn’t _feel_ not right.”  

 

Rhett doesn’t reply beyond an exasperated sigh, dragging both hands up and over his face. He considers leaving, retreating back to the lodge and allowing Link some time to sober up, but immediately dismisses the idea. As awkward as this is, as _painful_ , it’s likely the only time he’ll ever find himself the object of Link’s affections. His hands slide slowly down over his mouth, dragging any further arguments with them. The fear shivering through his bloodstream slowly begins to lose the fight against the tentative hum of his hope.

 

How far can he ride this? Will Link even _remember_ in the morning?

 

“It’s a real shame you’re not my boyfriend, baby. Do we call each other baby?” Link turns his head on the pillow to peer up at Rhett inquisitively, his cracker laying long forgotten in his lap. “I’d treat you _good_ , man.”

 

“Since when d’you want a boyfriend? I thought you liked that girl down at the hotdog place,” Rhett presses quietly, licking his dry lips. It feels morally grey somehow to be questioning his friend whilst Link’s lips are apparently loosened, but curiosity has never been easy for him to resist. Link makes a noncommittal noise high in his throat, waving a dismissive hand.

 

“She’s okay, I guess. But she’s not as pretty as you.”

 

Rhett’s face turns practically purple. He’s never been called _pretty_ before. “Stop it.”

 

Link ignores him. “Dang… being with you would be like hitting the jackpot. Are you a model?”

 

Rhett finally smiles at that, dropping his gaze to the ground with a self-deprecating snort. “No.”

 

“You should be.” Link holds a hand out over the side of the bed, his long fingers grasping at air. “Don’t hide; lemme see your face.”

 

Rhett sucks a long breath, keeps it held in his lungs for a mental count of five. He can have this, this moment of weakness. Just once. Link won’t even remember.

 

Keeping his head canted toward the ground, Rhett’s eyes lift to lock with Link’s own. “Would you… would you _be_ my boyfriend, if I asked you?”

 

Link huffs, that bone-melting smile of his curling his lips once again. “In a heartbeat.”

 

Another breath; in, out, slow and electric in his lungs. “Why?”

 

The question finally seems to leave Link stumped, his head rolling back into the depths of his pillow. “Because…” His hands float animatedly as he searches his fogged mind for an answer; Rhett can see the way his eyes cloud over as though fighting to stay lucid. “Because you’re Rhett.”

 

It’s not the answer he’d expected, but it _is_ the answer he’d wanted. Rhett’s heart squeezes painfully, a lump forming in his throat. “Maybe I will someday, bo.”

 

“You’ll what? I’m not… my head feels…” Link breaks off with a quiet groan, his palm lifting to press heavily over his eyes. Rhett inches forward, concerned; it’s the first time Link’s shown any sign of discomfort since trying to sit up earlier. How often can he have his pain medication? Should he call for a nurse?

 

Instead, Rhett draws closer to Link’s bedside until his hips are pressed flush to its metal frame, both hands curling loosely around the railing. “Can I get you anything?”

 

Link smiles – fucking _smiles_ – and even though his palm remains pressed over his eyes, Rhett knows there’s mischief dancing in their depths. “That kiss, maybe?”

 

It’s now or never. Rhett wobbles on the spot, torn between bolting for the door and leaning down over the side of the bedframe to close the distance between their lips. His heart skips, time and space screeching to a halt as he throws caution to the wind, and finally – _finally_ – gives in.

 

Link’s mouth is warm beneath his own, his soft noise of appreciation swallowed beneath Rhett’s lips. The railing digs into his stomach and his back aches from the stooping angle, but it’s still the most perfect kiss Rhett has ever received in his life. Link tastes of summer, of heat and nostalgia and warm days beneath the Southern sun. The hand once covering Link's eyes slides to cup Rhett’s jaw, the strip of Rhett’s beard rough beneath his wide palm. Rhett’s eyes clench shut as he licks into Link’s mouth, fleeting and desperate, committing the delicious hitch of Link’s breath to his memory. It’s all he’ll get, and he’ll take it.

 

Prying Link’s fingers from his jacket, Rhett straightens up with a resolute sigh. He greedily drinks in the sight of Link’s lips swollen and kiss-dark, those brilliantly blue eyes heavy-lidden yet far more _alert_ than they had been moments ago. It’s enough to bring the panic lurching back up into his throat, and he takes a much-needed step back.

 

“Get some more rest; I’m heading back to the lodge before it gets too dark out.” Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, Rhett does his best to ignore the heat warming his body as he walks backward towards the door. “Eat your crackers, okay? Don’t forget.”

 

Link smiles, soft and slow. Thoughtful fingers trace the curve of his lower lip. “I won’t.”


End file.
